


scheherazade

by stanyeol



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous Morality, Crossdressing, Drag Queens, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Tags May Change, That's it that's the plot, background relationships in this include kaisoo and chanbaek, because they're the mafia, drag queen!Junmyeon, mafia boss!Yifan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25026328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stanyeol/pseuds/stanyeol
Summary: when yifan sought out his salvation, all he found was suho instead.(in which: yifan is the most powerful mafia boss in asia and junmyeon is a drag queen from the countryside with a missing brother.)
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Kim Minseok | Xiumin/Lu Han, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know them and i've never interacted with them aside from me barfing all over their comments section (which i recommend you do too), but thanks to [genesisgrey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/genesisgrey/pseuds/genesisgrey) for inspiring this fic. it inspired me to go watch drag race and after i fell into that rabbithole i couldn't stop and this happened.
> 
> i didn't tag this with "dead dove" because it's not _there_ yet, but do keep in mind that the characters in this fic are fucked up like mafiosos and people who get dragged in their world are. there's no graphic depiction of anything (yet, i think), but there is quite a detailed description of a mutilated corpse ahead.

gangwon-do lost another soul tonight.

the blood of luhan's _former_ plaything coated yifan's fingers, sprinkling his gold signet ring with rivulets of ruby. under the harsh lights the moon had given them in that dingy, abandoned warehouse, the gold in his finger glimmered even more. shining amidst the dark. as if it delighted in the shadows, all blanketed in the remnants of someone's last breath.

as if _it_ was made for it.

how fitting, yifan surmised.

(because _he_ was.)

behind him, luhan wiped his precious knives carefully before returning them to their sheathes. the older man chuckled, whistling coolly in that rainy night. an innocent smile ghosted across his face, cherubic cheeks high and swollen with joy, tainting the purity in his face as much as the blood that remained staining his hands. still, it was evident that it was far from his thoughts, as the man kept laughing softly to himself.

"why so quiet, _duizhang_?" he asked playfully. "feeling guilty?"

"guilty? i don't even know this guy,” yifan replied, his hard stare returning to the corpse lying lifeless around a foot away from him. the unknown man was sprawled out like a dried-out starfish on the shore, broken and tattered and waiting for death to come already. but it seemed that this man was luckier than that starfish already, already receiving the visit it had waited for.

but the amount of time that he did wait for… _well_ , that’s another issue. there was no abundance of mercy in this world, and yifan wasn’t the time of person to try and compensate for that.

criss-crossing scarlet ribbons adorned the man’s chest, courtesy of luhan’s knives. they bore down deep enough on the man that pieces of flesh and strings of muscle hung limply outside the wounds, like red paper lanterns in the new year's eve. slivers of white ( _bone, fat—yifan couldn't even bother to discern. anatomy wasn't needed in his line of work_ ) also peeked through the wounds, but they weren't courageous enough to make a full appearance.

if you asked him, it looked almost beautiful. almost like a work of art. luhan's sculpting skills were getting better. too bad it also had the unfortunate consequence of being messy as hell.

"did you really have to make such a mess, though?" he asked, shifting his weight to cross his legs on that small, rickety chair they managed to find in that abandoned warehouse. as if yifan would agree to sitting in one of the dusty boxes that filled the room. who knows what those must have contained.

luhan just shrugged. "our boy taotao's assigned for cleanup. i wanted to give him a little treat," he said. "besides, he really made minnie worry to death when he didn't make it to curfew last monday."

the older man meticulously gathered his knives and put them inside a small doctor's bag made of thick brown leather—expensive enough to intimidate and avoid the inspection of insecure policemen, but inconspicuous enough to not be flashy and go under the radar.

yifan raised an eyebrow, amused. "zitao's the best among us in hand-to-hand. i don't think you should really be worrying that much."

luhan glared at him. "wow. big talk from the guy who assigned a 15-year-old to work the los angeles deal, knowing that a) he's a minor, and b) LA's covered with rabid white assholes eager to shoot anyone outside their own."

"oh, is that why minseok suddenly asked to be work that deal too? i thought he just got sick of you and wanted to take a break for a while."

his best friend rolled his eyes and stuck a tongue at him. "shut up. minseok loves me."

"i know. how unfortunate for him."

the large rusting door of the warehouse creaked as someone from the outside struggled to open it. both yifan and luhan just stared at the door, reeling in their laughter as the man outside cursed and huffed his way through. they were far from being alarmed. any bystander or ordinary person poisoned with curiosity enough to try and look in the warehouse would've been shot on sight by the two dozen men luhan had posted outside.

and true to luhan's treat, it seemed that all those men were under strict orders not to help zitao once he arrived.

after a few more grunts and curses, zitao finally managed to swing the door open. even with the faint glimmer of the moonlight, yifan could count two new piercings (just holes in his skin, so the boy must have taken out the earrings) and the shimmer of blue on his hair, still peeking through the frankly haphazard dye job he had.

and _sure_ , it was cold that night, raining a few hours before, but yifan knew zitao enough to know that the boy was a walking thermostat—which made the thick long-sleeved turtleneck all the more suspicious for him. maybe a new tattoo? he feared to see what minseok's reaction would be as the boy was truly making his bed. no tattoos before 18, and yet this.

it seemed that luhan had the same set of eyes as yifan, because before he can even comment on it, the man already walked toward the boy and yanked him by one of his ears. "you brat! why are you covered up? did you get a tattoo, huh? minseok's going to kill you!"

" _ge,_ chill! i didn't!" he said, pushing the man, whose hands were already busy trying to pull his shirt up, presumably finding the tattoo. "hey, stop!"

"where is it? show me the tattoo so when minseok tells me to kill you i know where to strike first."

"i didn't get a tattoo!"

"then why are you cover—"

zitao suddenly looked sheepish. almost embarrassed, as he turned his head down. "well, you know," he shrugged. "after fixing the deal with victoria- _jie_ at _formula_ , there was this girl and..."

"you lost your virginity?" yifan asked, trying to reign in his laughter with the sudden shock in luhan's eyes.

"t-to a dominatrix?" luhan stammered.

"wow, luhan, you _truly_ raised him."

zitao shook his head vigorously. "w-what? no!" the earlier sheepishness made its way onto his face again. "but y-you know, we did kiss." the boy even blushed.

luhan walked to the corpse and stared at his bloody work. both yifan and zitao raised curious looks at him, but the man ignored them both. without a single word, luhan raised his left foot over the corpse's mouth and drove his boot down, letting the grotesque crunch of crushed bones and muscle break the silence.

yifan turned his head away. he really wasn't eager to discover how strong teeth were bonded to one's skull.

zitao let out a loud whine. " _ge!_ why'd you go overboard? _ugh_." he went closer to the now-more mangled corpse and took the pen in his pocket to pick on his head. " _tsk._ did you ruin his eyes? yixing-ge needs the eyeballs. he says his patient needs the corn-something."

"cornea?" yifan supplied.

"yeah, that. i dunno, i hate science," zitao muttered.

luhan scoffed. "stop acting like he deserves mercy."

"but i thought he's dead because he owed _duizhang_ money?" zitao asked.

the older man just nodded. "yeah. and he's dead _like that_ because he tried finding money by selling children." grunting, he continued. "obviously that didn't work out 'cause he was too busy _getting busy_ with the kids instead of trying to find another way to profit, so..."

this time, yifan stood up. he didn't know about that, and frankly, he was thankful he didn't hear it before luhan had his hands on him. if he had, the man would probably still alive. still _begging,_ and it'd be yifan making ribbons in the man's chest by hand.

yifan had led his family to be the shadows lurking in the dark, monsters causing nightmares. but they were never really predators. or at least, of the undeserving. there were lines that he refused to cross. after all, no one's truly limitless. greed for power that refused to bend down and be humbled almost always turned into stupidity. he wasn't one to go down that trap—and he wasn't going to lead his family there either.

"the eyes don't seem salvageable, taozi," he said simply.

zitao leaned closer to where he crouched near the man's head. "huh, no. i think they still can. lu- _ge_ 's earlier trick didn't seem to damage them that much, so i can just go scoop them out and—"

then yifan also drove his boot down the man's eyes, creating a huge splotchy sound as one of them popped out of their socket.

zitao, unfortunately, had to bear the brunt of it, red and white and gut splattered over his face.

" _ge!_ "

yifan spit on the corpse for good measure.

* * *

_el dorado_.

the golden man.

the golden king.

a legend of sorts. a myth told to many.

such a huge name to live up to, and yet all that their bar had were a couple of dingy tables and a couple dingier booths at the opposite corners of the room.

there's three-foot-tall golden statue of a bare-chested king sitting valiantly on a lavish throne, but junmyeon had been in el dorado long enough to know that the statue had just been one of heechul's thrift store finds in the last summer fair. where it used to be made completely out of wood before, it became covered in multiple coats of resin, thick enough to hide its origins before being bathed with gold spray paint.

"all queens must know arts and crafts!" was all heechul had said before.

you might think that the king might have spared them some luck with his presence, but under his watchful eye, nothing much happened. the audience that came and went in their wooden, saloon style doors were the same: old, pot-bellied men reeking with sweat from a day of blue-collar work, eyes glossing over with the exhaustion that came with accepting that you're stuck in whatever hellhole you were born into. then they all get drunk by kyungsoo's magical concoctions at the bar and empowered and _entitled_ enough to attempt copping a feel under the drag queens' skirts.

heechul, or _cinderella_ when he's dressed up, always did manage to slide away from them quick enough. years and years of experience, she'd say. years that junmyeon didn't have. _suho_ was never really lucky with those men.

it was a friday night and there still wasn't anyone in el dorado. baekhyun was busy singing onstage as _baekhee berry,_ only to have chanyeol, the peon at the docks, as the only one to cheer him up from the audience.

junmyeon struggled to restrain himself from rolling his eyes upon seeing what's on the boy's table. watered down orange soda with a lemon slice on the glass' rim. all in all, not even enough to pay for baekhee berry's performance for the night. he glared at the lemon slice adorning chanyeol's glass—not even enough for kyungsoo's fee, to be honest.

there was another group of men in the audience, the same type of men that frequented their establishment. they sat in one of the corner booths, laughing boisterously at heechul and jungsoo's jokes. or as it may, _cinderella_ and _teukquilla_.

last junmyeon heard—and by that, he wasn't able to fall asleep last night because of it—the couple was busy arguing until midnight, with the breaking of glass and plates shattering the quiet stillness of their shared house. but there they were now, laughing seductively at each other while they let their manicured hands trace figures on the hairy slabs of flesh that those men called arms. cinderella glittered in a dark sequin blue dress, while teukquilla paralleled her in a matching red one, albeit shorter than the other's. they were like fully made up yin and yangs, sisters teaming up for enact those men's destruction.

and from the way one of the men hungrily took in the sight of teukquilla's cleavage, fake breasts impeccably blended to her skin with perfection, and the sliver of pale flesh that peeked through cinderella's thigh slit, it seemed that the sisters teamed up to fulfill those men's fantasies as well.

something churned inside junmyeon's gut. _gross_. but at least they'll be having actual dinner that night.

although perverts overdosing with toxic masculinity and homophobia like those men were staples in el dorado, they usually weren't the only ones in town. even though el dorado was in some unforsaken corner in gangwon-do, nestled between the street that always stank of stale piss and the large expanse of vacant land, they usually still had numerous customers coming in—tourists curious about the famed drag queens sprinkling glitter in the countryside, housewives interested in kyungsoo's food and drinks while delighting in teukquilla's listening ear as they talked endlessly about their dumb husbands, or college kids embodying the quintessential _art hoe_ schtick, ogling at their drag _for the art_.

then there's also idiots like chanyeol, who despite having only literal pennies to his name, almost always came because of his ill-fated crush on baekhyun. the joys of being young, dumb, and innocent. this was why whenever he sees chanyeol hanging around, junmyeon always wrinkled his nose, because he knew that who'd be coming next—his brother, sehun—

something tightened inside his chest. _sehu—_ no. no, no, no. he was at work, all made up, covered with layers upon layers of makeup, and even more layers of padding and body glitter. tonight he was _suho_ , and _she_ wasn't weak. she didn't deserve to see junmyeon's weakness. the tears over his missing brother could come during midnight, stifled with his loofah in the shower.

"god. this might be the worst crowd i've seen since i've worked here," kyungsoo whispered as he wiped down the bar counter. "people are still that scared, huh?"

junmyeon nodded. he couldn't really blame them. a few weeks ago, a body was found in the abandoned warehouse nearby, almost mutilated beyond recognition. it was discovered by the local boys that the town hall hired to clean it up so that it can use it for the next spring dance, but based on the stories that he heard, he was glad that chanyeol had the flu that day and missed out on that day's work.

the scene was grotesque, junmyeon heard—boot imprints in the lower half of the face, nerves and guts from the eyes popped out but the eyes noticeably absent, and deep lashes down the man's chest. then there was that rumor that his eyes weren't the only ones missing from the body, that there was also something absent under his bleeding crotch. _god_. although junmyeon had a lot to say with how fate has dealt the cards of his life so far, he was infinitely glad that he wasn't at the mercy of whoever did that.

if it weren't for the mickey mouse watch that the man still wore, the police wouldn't have recognized him at all. it was the retired elementary teacher, mr. seo. and although the entire town mourned, junmyeon could really say the same. he always felt something off about that guy, which is why he'd had jungsoo homeschool sehu—

"hey, are you okay?" kyungsoo asked, elbowing him, " _hyung_?" then he nodded. "it's one of those nights, huh?"

his _name_ , despite being unspoken, hung in the air, saturating the silence.

"'m just thinking of how glad i am he didn't see the commotion from last week," junmyeon said simply, abandoning all attempts to smile. kyungsoo would understand. he raised that boy too.

"me too. knowing him, he'd think he was in buzzfeed unsolved and try to investigate," the younger boy laughed mirthlessly. kyungsoo raised him a curious look, changing gears. "do you think they'd ever find out who it did it, though? chanyeol believes it's a serial killer, you know,"

"if it's a serial killer, why'd go for someone so prominent in town? shouldn't you go practice on someone no one cares about first?" junmyeon countered.

kyungsoo shrugged. "well, according to the kids who found the body... the killer seemed _very_ practiced." then as if telling a secret, he leaned closer to junmyeon. "but baekhyun and i believe it's a vigilante or something."

"vigilante?"

the man nodded. "you know mrs. jeong from the market? the one who ramps up the prices for snow crabs? she says that mr. seo is a pervert. like the one who preys on kids kind of pervert. she says he tried to get close with her son. remember, she's the one who banded the moms together to kick him out of the elementary school?"

"huh? but i thought it's because he was embezzling the soccer kids' funds?"

"yeah, well... it's not like they can get him off with a pedophilia case, right? who'd believe that?" kyungsoo snorted. "especially in a sleepy dreamy small-town like this one?"

"if that's the case, i'm guessing there's rumors already about mr. seo dying off an attack by an angry banshee," junmyeon quipped, swiping the leftover cocktails that kyungsoo had prepared for tonight's guests.

kyungsoo _hmm_ ed. "blame baekhyun. i'm pretty sure he's behind three of those rumors." but kyungsoo leaned even closer now, voice dropping to a whisper. "but in all seriousness, _hyung_ , i think bigger forces are behind that asshole's death."

"what? a disrespected god?" junmyeon asked incredulously, but kyungsoo remained unfazed, shaking his head.

"jongin said that there was a weird dude asking around the elementary school about mr. seo a few days before he was killed. like... _city dude_ weird."

"kyungsoo, we're literally a tourist town."

"yeah, but you know... there are tourists and there are _tourists_ , if you know what i mean?" kyungsoo bent his head down, as if trying to pretend he wasn't talking, and dropped his voice lower than a whisper. junmyeon had to even lean in as close as he could to hear what the bartender had to say. "we _do_ have a lot of abandoned and vacant spaces here in wolgwang, _hyung_."

"perfect for serial killers then," junmyeon said nonchalantly, taking a sip from his stolen cocktail.

"or the mafia."

he gave the bartender an incredulous look, which must have looked even more comical considering his overly arched painted eyebrows, but kyungsoo just shrugged and returned to the kitchen with the glasses that needed to be washed.

snorting into his drink, junmyeon rolled his eyes. if the mafia was truly there in their boring town, why should he care? it's not like they can end his misery or everyone else's misery in el dorado. if they were going to spice things up, they might as well do something beneficial—something more educational than giving a tutorial on how to gut a man.

~~(like finding sehu—)~~

* * *

"sorry, lu, but last i heard, i brought you in as my right-hand man for the business. you know, the one i drink beer with while we watch idiots get shot for us? so why exactly did you bring us back here?" yifan whined as he looked at the hundred and ninth— _yes, he's been counting_ —tree that they've passed by. "haven't you heard about the top tip for drug pushers? don't try to taste your goods, man. just because you peddle idiots for rich serial killers to practice on doesn't mean you should start acting like them too. this is what you're doing, right? that serial killer thing where you have to go back to where you killed them to relive whatever pleasure you've had."

luhan rolled his eyes from behind the wheel of a random black honda civic that he bought earlier that day just for this road trip. "well, sounds like you know a lot about serial killers. maybe we should be worried about you instead."

minseok yawned, before propping his feet on the console between the driver and the passenger's seats. "i dunno. for me it sounds like the _duizhang_ has been enjoying watching criminal minds lately. what season are you in now? eleven?"

"nope," yifan said, letting the 'p' pop out prominently. he removed the sunglasses perching on his eyes because it was already dark outside and he's grown tired of hearing luhan's snide remarks about him acting cool. "i just finished the entire series last night. t'was fun. guess you could say i learned a lot—about how ordinary people think our world works. it's kinda funny, actually, if you think about it like that."

"i can't believe you think of criminal minds as a comedy when taotao literally won't touch it with a ten-foot pole," minseok muttered, before stroking the hair off the sleeping boy's face, who was busy drooling over on his shoulder.

"well, i can't believe you treat taotao like he's never seen blood before," luhan countered back, almost spitefully.

"just because he's seen blood before doesn't mean that he should*. don't you think so, luhan?*" minseok said, a dangerous smile plastered on his face, acidity dripping from his tone.

frankly, even though yifan was a stickler for good driving, he understood why luhan almost went out of lane.

meanwhile, the driver just pouted. "why are you being mean to me? you should call out yifan." he cocked his head to the side. "look at him acting like he's don corleone and shit when he literally started scamming people while selling customized cars."

"says the guy who scoured dumpster to dumpster to find me the scrap i needed to fool idiots for those cars," yifan quipped.

minseok rolled his eyes. "both of you should shut up because you literally won't be anything without me."

* * *

after the two hundredth and second tree, luhan finally pulled up in front of a dilapidated building.

it was deep into the night already, an inky blanket over their heads, and they were in the middle of nowhere, but none of them seemed too bothered by it. the large, almost floor-length windows of the store they parked in front of, closed and dusty enough that yifan couldn't discern what exactly it sold, seemed like there were eyes lurking and gawking at them within its shadows.

and yet zitao just leisurely leaned back on it, still yawning.

"why're we here, _ge?_ i thought we'd be going to busan for seafood," zitao whined, rubbing his eyes as he spoke.

minseok reached out to wipe the corner of the boy's mouth, as dried drool settled there. from his periphery, he could see luhan's eyes soften at the sight. how domestic. who'd have thought being suddenly left as the guardians at 18 of an orphaned mafia boss' son would turn out like this?

"well, this is close enough, taotao," luhan perked up, trying to cheer the boy out as the sleepiness wore out off him and the irritation settled. "you saw the beach earlier, didn't you?"

with zitao's mouth jutted out in a pout, it was evident that a tantrum was on the horizon. and as much as he loved the boy, yifan's car collection had already suffered because of his past meltdowns—his garage was already dwindling, and luhan still hasn't made well in his promise to fill it up.

minseok stroked zitao's hair. "hey, how 'bout this: if you let your _ge_ s do their thing, i'd make you your favorite brownies."

"with more nuts on top?"

"with more nuts on top."

luhan nodded silently and motioned for them to follow him into the alleyway beside the rundown building.

according to the older man, after yifan had pissed him off enough with how much he had rolled his eyes and groaned under his breath, there really was nothing sinister as to why they were back in wolgwang. plus, luhan knew better than to lie to zitao about something. they truly were back here for seafood and the beach.

just because luhan killed a man from here didn't mean that he should avoid this place forever—especially not when the local police and the entire town hall knew about _what_ they were and let them be.

besides, they should be able to take their vacations too, andthey were getting too tired of jeju island or the maldives.

minseok had signed off on this, luhan had said earlier, which made sense to yifan—because honestly, it's not like luhan would do anything without minseok's approval. wolgwang was an ordinary place, he'd said. just a small town with understandably small revenue, with villagers biding their time and energy diving into the ocean for snow crabs and milkfish and tending to the constant stream of tourists from the city that never really multiplied or dwindled in number. _consistent._ that's the best term to describe how wolgwang was.

your day-to-day, run of the mill, small town—near enough from the city to warrant a curious day drive, but tiny enough that no one really cared about it.

and even with the sudden death of one of its citizens, yifan knew that it will only take a few weeks before the people here forgot about it, because he didn't see the villagers caring too much too.

but aside from the seafood and the beach, there's one thing that stirred luhan's curiosity immensely: el dorado.

and that alone made yifan curious too.

* * *

"a bar? _a bar???_ " minseok screeched, one hand hugging his precious taotao close to him and covering the boy's ears and eyes, the other tugging at luhan's ears, making him yelp. _as he deserved_.

el dorado, despite its name, failed to live up to the legend. if the building they parked in front of was already desolate and depressing, this seemed to be competing with it—and _winning_.

heavy, swinging saloon doors creaked to welcome them to the bar, whose entire interior was dark, hardwood panels—or at least, what it looked like it claimed to be—covering every available surface of the walls. it was lit by cheap yellow overhead lighting, and yifan couldn't determine if it were colored that way deliberately or it was just the mismanagement that came with the deadly combination of people not caring and the heavy hand of passing time.

mismatched ornate lamps hung on the walls, in dusty colors of rose and indigo and lemon, reminding him of the his grandmother's lamps that his mother had once packed up and sold to the thrift store. together with the kitschy art (yes, his eyes weren't deceiving him—that was definitely a version of _american gothic_ wherein the couple was east asian) and the random placement of neon signboards twinkling in the walls, the entire place seemed like a texan grandpa's parlor taken over by his angsty grandchild who was too lazy to commit to redecorating.

old floral sofas forcibly placed in an l-shape greeted his eyes as he took in the corner booths. _poor_ angsty grandchild with a penchant for garage sales and flea markets, then.

while minseok tugged both luhan and zitao along, yifan bumped his knees into a statue near the entrance. painted gold but definitely made out of wood, a ferocious-looking king stared at the nothingness behind his crotch.

 _this must have been_ el dorado, yifan thought to himself, chuckling. he patted the king on his head and sat where the other three were.

"taotao's fifteen and you bring us here," minseok said, each word gritting his teeth.

luhan sighed and rolled his eyes. "how many times do i have to tell you? taotao is far from innocent, and our work is the farthest that could be. i mean, the boy can definitely—"

"just because he can doesn't mean he _should_ ," minseok snapped.

for once, there was genuine irritation on luhan's face, flaring enough that yifan knew the man was near to going off on minseok—something he never did, something yifan actually thought he couldn't do. but there was a first time for everything, and it seemed like luhan was seconds away from it.

zitao tried to butt in to appease the situation, smiling widely at minseok. ""i'm really okay, minseok- _hyung_. don't worry about me."

but minseok refused to look at zitao, his glare affixed on his husband. "it's _our_ job to worry about you, taotao."

from beside the empty bar, a door swung open, with around five grungy men filing out, all drunk and happy and noisy, laughing heartily like they were the luckiest men in the world. their laughs were like nails on a chalkboard in yifan's ears, leaving him unexplainably unsettled. true—he didn't know why, but he has learned to rely on his instincts. something told him that those men were bad news.

but while the men filled him with alarm, they awoke a different type of sentiment in luhan. yifan has been friends with the older man since they were in diapers, and he knew that despite luhan's heart literally halved and sitting in front of him, both wouldn't be able to do anything when luhan became really angry. and those men embodied exactly what luhan hated: noise and entitlement.

"well, worrying isn't gonna protect him from the world. experience will," luhan reasoned out, tone getting sharper with every word.

"victoria—"

" _function_ is an upscale club right in the heart of LA, with everyone knowing who we are and _what_ we are. meanwhile, this fucking place is just one of many fucking places and the people in here don't know batshit about us, which is the same for around 80% of the people he'd meet, which _means_ that he has to _learn_ , minseok. and he won't learn if he has us scooping his shit everywhere he goes."

silence spread out over their table and even zitao looked remorseful, which piqued yifan, because he didn't think he heard any reason for zitao to look like that. still, he refused to butt in the two's argument. he might be the _duizhang_ and they might all be family to one another, but this is far from his territory.

minseok sighed. in a softer tone, he said, "he's fifteen, luhan. i just want him to be a kid even more. like we weren't able to be."

"minseok- _hyung_ ," zitao tried to interfere, but luhan spoke over him, his tone decidedly softer than before. minseok won, it seemed.

"i know. but our jobs are unforgiving, minnie, you know that. one slip up and everything comes crashing down."

this time, especially with zitao looking like in a brink of a teary meltdown, yifan decided it's enough for him to step in. "if we're going to turn into a lifetime drama special now, can we at least have something to drink?"

* * *

" _hyung."_ kyungsoo's urgent tone stirred him from his sleep. with his right arm aching from how long he'd been sleeping on it, his shoulders protested as well, obviously strained by the length of time. how long has he been asleep, anyway? in hindsight, that probably didn't matter that much. it's obvious that it was long enough that he had either a) missed a group of ridiculously rich men who gave generously tipped everyone except him because he was too busy sleeping in the staff room, or b) missed out on jungsoo and heechul publicly fighting and eventually breaking up in front of everyone, the commotion going on like a raging fire, incinerating whatever's remaining of el dorado because he wasn't there to stop them _because he was too busy sleeping in the staff room._

while both of them sounded quite impossible, junmyeon has learned to embrace all possibilities. you never knew what life would throw at you any day.

" _hyung_ ," kyungsoo repeated, more urgently. he blinked the remaining sleep off his eyes, and was about to rub them when he remembered that he was still in full drag. or at least, what should be full drag, but was now just the tattered combination of the cheap dollar store lashes desperately holding on his eyes and the copious amounts of glitter that he used to compensate for his entire look—which _yes,_ came from the dollar store too.

"what?" he rumbled, voice rougher than the voice of what someone who looked like him should be. blinking twice more, he finally regained consciousness at the sight of his face in the dusty mirror in the staff room. damn. no wonder the posh queens in the city looked down at her whenever they'd visit el dorado. _suho_ was the epitome of _crusty_ at this point.

the corners of his mouth felt sticky and clumpy, dried saliva and fruity 90s lip gloss he swiped in a seoul drugstore clinging. _yup._ suho was such a mess, and normally junmyeon would feel sorry for her, but this was the reality of her life when all she had to rely on was dollar store makeup or drugstore shoplifting. beside, there was nothing a little baby wipe couldn't fix.

junmyeon tried to search for a pack of baby wipes ( _"never real makeup wipes, dear,_ " jungsoo would say. " _they're expensive!_ ") on their shared counter, but all that was there were half-open bottles of foundation and powder-covered blushes.

"baby wipes?" kyungsoo asked, to which junmyeon nodded. the bartender's tone turned softer, _sadder_. "we've run out, and jungsoo- _hyung_ won't buy new ones. he says it's better if we buy new alcohol with the money we've got, since that sells." seeing junmyeon's sudden pain-stricken face, kyungsoo added, "heechul- _hyung_ said gin and paper towel work just as well, so maybe i could fix you up, some... _hyung?_ "

it was evident that kyungsoo was trying to comfort him—and boy, _did he try_ , because kyungsoo's puppy-dog eyes were worse than both chanyeol's and baekhyun's ( _but never seh—)_ on a good day—but junmyeon couldn't do anything but sigh. poor suho. that woman deserved better than what junmyeon was giving her.

"anyway, what's up?" he asked kyungsoo, attempting to inject some happiness in his tone but haplessly failing. "you seemed a bit worried earlier. did something happen?"

"oh, sorry, _hyung._ did i disturb you or something? it's just—"

"yeah. i was busy reserving my remaining serotonin so i can survive another day of life tomorrow. again—what's up?" junmyeon deadpanned.

"there's some guys outside, and..."

"kyungsoo, there's always guys outside. we're a bar."

he would've expected kyungsoo to be rolling his eyes right now, but the boy still looked downright spooked, fidgeting with his hands. "it's just... i've never seen them before, _hyung_."

"really? sounds like a good thing, though. it'd be nice not to have men trying to snake their hands under my skirt for once."

"no, _hyung,_ as in they're... they're the type who shouldn't be here, you know. they don't... fit."

this time, junmyeon took the time to turn and look at the bartender directly. "soo," he said slowly, reminding himself that even though kyungsoo was mature for his age, he was still fresh out of his teens and couldn't even legally drink in other countries. "i'm a drag queen. you're playing the newlywed game with jongin. we're both leeching off the repressed homosexuality of the homophobes outside. this is a place for _misfits_. how can someone... _not_ fit?"

kyungsoo sighed. "you'll know it when you get out there, _hyung_."

"me? but teukquilla and cinderella are out there, and baekhee—"

"you know heechul- _hyung_ still doesn't want baekhyun interacting with the guests—well, except chanyeol. and both the hags are still busy outside. they said they got the humpty dumpties feeding out the palms of their hands so..."

junmyeon groaned. he had hoped he'd at least get some silence tonight. "fine, fine. give me five minutes."

* * *

for the sake of his sanity, and all because he knew they all would survive on the hags' tips tonight alone, junmyeon took a little extra time gussying suho up. maybe it was him trying to make up for the sheer lack of poise that kyungsoo had caught her in, maybe it was the idea that he could be late in attending to the customers and not starve. tonight, he could afford to give suho her pride. and even if he could only do it once, he might as well do it. who's to say a moment like this could come again?

he was being dramatic, he knew that. but there was nothing like spending time alone with yourself in front of a grungy mirror, trying to make do with a sprawling collection of shoplifted makeup, that made him feel like the protagonist of his own personal _telenovela_. or _kdrama_ , he guessed, because he was korean. seriously, all that was missing were a dramatic ballad overturn in the background while he struggled to rein in his tears, only to fail with one stray tear drop making its way down his painted face.

junmyeon created suho to be the poster child of elegance. intelligent, poised, confident—but never too brash. muted and subtle strength powering through as she waved her way through the ups and downs of life. he never really wanted to be a woman per say, but who wouldn't want to be someone else? to live the fantasy of being in someone else's shoes? so when junmyeon was given the opportunity to be someone else, he wanted to be someone he couldn't be—someone to look up to, someone who wouldn't crumble, someone to rely on. a leader. a guardian. a mother.

( _someone who wouldn't lose a child like h—_ )

as his chest tightened with that thought, he tried his hardest to shake it away. _no_. not tonight. just this once.

he looked at his reflection in the mirror and saw her looking back at him, makeup done impeccably, making him go as far to say that perhaps, for this one special night, he has outdone himself and finally given her what she deserved. he had switched out the usual pinks and sky blues that he'd usually employ on his eyes to give justice to the 80s look that he usually adopted, claiming homage to the best era of pop culture when in reality he was just grappling with the limited options from their shared drag closet, which majorly composed of thrift store finds (70s), giveaways from heechul's and jungsoo's mothers (80s), and the clothes they've dug out of the hags' middle school closets (90s).

tonight, he indulged herself with the burgundies and crimsons that they have saved for special occasions. going heavy on the concealer to cut her creases, he delighted in the gold highlighter and brushed them liberally on her cheeks, the way he knew she glowed in. he took extra time carefully and meticulously painting her eyeliner, sharp and pointed enough to look like she could kill a man, exactly what she should be capable of. then, to finish it all up, he pulled out a bullet of signature red lipstick that he hid in one of the drawers, a small little gift for herself that he refused to share with the other girls.

taking a bob wig with bangs, its brown not far from his actual hair color, and a feathered red dress that buried deep within the closet, junmyeon took a deep breath before looking at himself in the mirror.

 _there_. finally, suho was here.

* * *

when he finally brought suho out to play in the bar, all that she met was a series of empty chairs and tables.

a booth table was covered with half-empty beer glasses and the remains of crushed peanuts and dried octopus spread out atop. judging from the raucous laughter he heard from one of the back rooms, it seemed that the hags have tagteamed the drunkards and brought them there, no doubt looking after them make fools out of themselves before bleeding their wallets dry. the nosy neighbors might deem them monsters for having a back room like that, tagging them as sexual deviants and the like, but there was just no use debunking a theory that was honestly much more interesting than the real thing. telling people that they were actually just bringing the messy drunks away from the bar to lessen the mess in the general area was obviously boring compared with the titillating story they had.

junmyeon was ready to go back to the kitchen to raise hell with kyungsoo, but he found that not all tables were empty. there, in the farthest corner of the room, right beneath the dimmest lamp in the bar, were three men and what seemed like a teenager. two of the men exchanged hostile glares with each other, muttering angrily under their breaths. but despite their evident anger, they both softened as they came in contact with the kid, with the one—the man with the strong eyebrows and cat-like eyes—beside him threw an arm around the boy's shoulder protectively, and the other stroking circles on the kid's palm, as if comforting him.

he quickly averted his eyes, finding the scene too intimate for him to gawk at, feeling out of place. even more so, the scene felt too _familiar_ for him, stirring old memories, especially with the kid looking exactly like _his_ age. trying to search for something else to look at, his gaze landed on the other man on the table, and he found himself unable to look away.

this man was supposed to be on his corner, the two oddballs shunned by whatever domestic spat was happening between the small family on that table, but the man abandoned junmyeon and was luxuriously ignoring them all, shaking his glass of kyungsoo's special cocktail of the night in a small circle, rocking the ice inside.

even from afar, it was clear that this man was breathtaking—not because he was beautiful, because junmyeon would never resort to calling someone that as it was too cheesy—but simply because the man _literally_ made his breathing stutter and unable to continue. there was a sort of aura surrounding the man—the looming intimidation, perhaps—that made him thoroughly captivating, drawing junmyeon helplessly like a fly into a spiderweb.

and yet from how the man's nose sloped and chin impeccably jutted out and long eyelashes framed his bored eyes, junmyeon and _suho_ knew that this was the type of man that could kill him and they would let him get away with it.

junmyeon has been in this business for a long while, and in this world, men should be at the mercy of his hands. this was the first time wherein he ever felt the opposite, and now all of the hags' insistent advice came flooding to him one by one, reminding him of how _this_ was how _women like them_ get killed. girls like them don't have the luxury of being dumb. stupidity wasn't cute for them; it was fatal.

the alarm bells started ringing even more loudly in his head when the man turned his way toward him and met his gaze. even more handsome that he first thought, the man raised his glass at him and quirked an eyebrow, intrigued. a gentle smile made its way across his face, as if he could read the thoughts rushing through junmyeon's mind, easing him off his worries.

embarrassed, junmyeon immediately bowed his head and went to kyungsoo's station, only to find that all the bartender's things that he usually had behind the counter were gone, and that the normal boisterous laughter that he, together with baekhyun and chanyeol, had in the kitchen were absent as well. he looked at the clock near the kitchen door. _2 AM_. high time for the kids to all be gone, leaving the hags and junmyeon (he refused to be grouped alongside those two) all alone. and with the duo busy in the backroom, he was effectively all alone.

fear gripped his throat, as something like puzzle pieces clicked in his head. what kyungsoo was saying earlier, what jongin had been theorizing about, something about these men, and _this man, in particular_ , just fits. strangers travelling out of the city to go to their middle of nowhere? _ridiculously handsome_ strangers travelling out of the city to go to their middle of nowhere? it sounded like the beginning of a murder mystery, and the realization that it might have already began a few hundred meters away from him, in that abandoned warehouse, filled his stomach with dread.

is he next?

is _she_ next?

he never imagined that suho's demise would be right at the center of el dorado, but life liked tragedies, it seemed. just the icing atop a cake, especially with _him_ still missing.

when he looked up, the stranger tormenting his thoughts appeared, a sleepy smile on his face as he looked at him— _her_.

and because both junmyeon and suho have no ounce of self-preservation at all, cursed words managed to crawl out of their lips: "you killed mr. seo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> junmyeon refers to himself as he, whereas suho uses she/her pronouns. it's very likely that _that_ may not go by the book, but like everything else about drag culture and mafias in this fic, i made it all up and still am as i go along [crying emoji].


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "wolgwang," according to google translate, means "moonlight." so, as is the standard of nomenclature within exo fics, i named my fictional sleepy small town using one of their song titles. so if you try and find a coastal town named wolgwang anywhere in the south korea map, you probably won't find it. i'm pretty sure gangwon-do isn't a coastal province either, but heechul's from there and i couldn't take him out of it.
> 
> also, i looked for leeteuk's drag name while searching for witty twitter handles of his stan accounts. so if it's reminiscent of someone, that user's probably the lucky winner of my raffle draw.
> 
> (i think i forgot to mention in the first chapter: this is unbeta'd and unedited. if you see a mistake that's really, _really_ glaring, like a weird ass portion that's suddenly underlined or what, feel free to tell me!)

the man threw his head back and laughed, as if junmyeon had told him the best joke in the world. "i didn't," he said as he recovered. the stranger cocked his head to motion back to their table. "but my friend did."

somehow, the taste of death was not as bad as junmyeon had thought it would be. even more so, he didn't think Death could look this handsome, staring at him in the face, eyes tantalizingly playing around his red lips... nor gentle, as the man in front of him just _stared_ but never did anything to so much warrant as wanting to _touch_.

if his death were to be blessed by this, he might as well return the favor and pull through with dignity. squaring his shoulders, he cleared his throat. "am i next?" he asked nonchalantly.

but the man just laughed again, this time softer, almost a giggle. "now why would you be next?" he said lightly, words playing along his tongue as if it wasn't junmyeon's—and suho's—life hanging on the balance. but then again, it wasn't like both of them were of anything importance. as much as junmyeon wanted to plead the case for suho, he knew that he hadn't given her enough opportunities to prove her worth.

"i dunno. don't serial killers like to go after the minorities first?" he said through his clenched jaw as he tried to hide his nervousness.

"sure. if those minorities like kids a little too much and even took a job to be close to them," the man said nonchalantly, bending down to look at kyungsoo's bar, his long fingers rifling through the bottles he could reach.

"...mr. seo?" junmyeon didn't know why—he suspected it already, anyway—but somehow, he felt like he owed it to the universe to ask for clarification. something about being part of the commmunity, especially since he knew that these men weren't going to be put away for this. not that they should, considering all facts in the scen—

the man just nodded, humming as he took the bottle of whiskey that kyungsoo had finally taken out of the alcohol cabinet, as it was easily the most expensive item they have on the menu—the _only_ expensive item, honestly. he scanned through the bottle's label, eyes poring into it expertly and large hands holding the bottle callously, as if he knew exactly how much it cost and just _did not care_.

what kind of serial killer was this? or _fine_ —friend of a serial killer?

the man's other hand perched carefully on the bar counter, his fingers tapping absentmindedly on the surface, unaware of how much junmyeon's eyes immediately latched on the gold signet ring adorning the stranger's ring finger. even under el dorado's grimy lights, the ring seemed exquisite, so much so that he felt blameworthy for even indulging with looking at it. the same exact feeling he's been having as he stayed in the man's presence.

"it's not a wedding ring, if that's what you wanted to ask," the man said, breaking the silence that's threatening to overpower his mind, because _seriously_ , what is his life? what is... _this_?

"i... i don't think that's what i wanted to ask," he said simply, thunder reappearing inside his chest again, a familiar itch inside his mouth, announcing more cursed words being restrained within.

but of course the man just had to take his bait. he cocked his head to the side, a playful glint in his eyes, and asked, "really? what is it then?"

"why are you here?" god, junmyeon, what is wrong with you?

"here as in front of you, or here as in wolgwang?"

"...both?"

the man smirked, and somehow, even without moving a single step, managed to come close to him enough for them to be almost face to face. his eyes found their place directly on junmyeon's eyes, before crawling downwards and settling delicately on his lips, staring. "normally, i hate doing people favors and i let luhan over there—" he motioned to one of the men left in his booth, "—answer the ones who ask too many questions. but my mama told me to be nice to pretty ladies, so i'll make an exception for you. which question do you want me to answer, then? choose wisely."

this time, junmyeon let the last two remaining brain cells he had work: gold signet ring, a casual indifference to shit that's practically worth half of junmyeon's life, and clothes that he just knew were worth _all_ of his life. not to mention the sort of confidence that came with constant baths in money and power, talking about murder like it was as inconvenient as a sudden downpour of rain, there was no question as to _what_ this man and his friends were. junmyeon knew that he _knew_ the answer; he was just too afraid to put it down into words. unlike mr. seo earlier, this time, he didn't need any confirmation at all. maybe he was terrified of hearing the truth, maybe it was his self-preservation instincts finally awakening, but the bottom line is: he was fine, thank you very much.

but the knowledge of what this man was didn't answer the two questions hanging between them both, and he wasn't going to claim that he wasn't curious about _both_. still, despite all the questions coexisting with him at this moment, he was certain about what _this_ was: a mind game. asking to weigh his options—choose between what he thought he was worth to the man or satiate his curiosity for the sake of _fucking_ social justice as a resident of wolgwang—he knew that this man was just trying to gauge him. measure if he was still worth toying around with, or if he should be another target practice for his friends from their booth.

amidst dust-covered whiskey and dim garage shop lamps, it looked like junmyeon was gambling with his life with someone who was, evidently, just _fucking bored_. he had to think quick; there was too much at stake. he takes a shallow breath and smiles softly, injecting suho's air of purity within—

"i'm here in your little town because luhan was bored and i'm here in front of you because _i_ was bored. plus, you seemed intriguing," the man said, cutting his thoughts off. he _tsk_ ed, raising an eyebrow. "what? you took too long, princess. 'sides, i know when's someone's acting dumb to try and dupe me. it won't work."

junmyeon gulped. "very well then. are you going to kill me now?"

the man laughed. " _my._ you _are_ intriguing." he shook his head. "nah. i don't like getting my hands dirty." seeing junmyeon's eyes dart automatically toward the man's booth, he waved him off. "and don't worry about them. you're too far away from their radar for them to do anything to you."

"so either you're saying i'm out of their league, or i'm irrelevant," junmyeon said because apparently, his self-preservation instincts have left him once again.

"let's just go with the first one. i don't think anyone that catches my attention can be deemed irrelevant."

* * *

believe it or not, junmyeon lost sight of the man the moment the hags came out of the back room, lugging six drunken men in tow. despite how ridiculous and impossible the situation he was in, seeing his _hyungs_ in five-inch stilettos, trying to manhandle six touchy drunks out of the bar, was enough to awaken him from his stupor. carrying the men out of the club and fending off their wandering hands were already enough to occupy him for a moment and forget about what he had been doing before.

so when junmyeon, together with jungsoo and heechul, came back to el dorado to see an empty bar, he couldn't help but think he had imagined it all. but, of course, heechul's big mouth immediately set him in place.

"yah, teukie! little suho's all grown up!" he exclaimed, pinching one of junmyeon's cheeks. "if you're gonna lose your virginity, make sure you wear protection, hmm? teukie and i are too young to be grandmothers."

"i know i always say that we should be careful with customers and that we should leave the 'going home with customers' thing with the professionals for that, but that man seemed loaded, so i'll excuse it," jungsoo said, nodding approvingly.

heechul let go of junmyeon and went to the abandoned booth where the man and his group were just a few minutes ago. a thick wad of cash sit prettily atop the mess, which heechul immediately swiped up and started counting, noisily marking each piece with spit-addled fingers. junmyeon tried to keep pace with heechul's counting, but the man's slender fingers were too practiced and quick for him to catch on. sometimes, he forgot that the man was the town's mahjong champion.

then, heechul suddenly went rigid, dropping the cash on the floor. of course, almost expectedly, jungsoo dove to catch them, and junmyeon prayed to the heavens above for not automatically bursting out with laughter.

"it's two million won, teukie. two," heechul said seriously, his eyes going comically wide. then, as slow as el dorado's saloon doors, he swung his head toward junmyeon's direction, staring down at him from head to toe. "damn, what did you put in that man's drink?"

even jungsoo joined him and directed his gaze toward junmyeon as well, although elevating it a bit because the man literally stepped three steps closer into junmyeon's breathing space.

"i d-didn't," junmyeon stammered. "kyungsoo's the one who makes all the drinks, so that we won't get—"

heechul rolled his eyes. "i don't mean literally, of course. but you must have done something to that man because this..." he added, stroking the wad of cash in his hand. then, he wiped a fake tear from his eyes. "i've never seen a baby this beautiful before."

all of a sudden, heechul's dramatics halted. "wait."

jungsoo stepped away from junmyeon and moved toward his partner.

"wait!" heechul screeched. "teukie!" he singsonged, waving a piece of the money in the air. "our baby's gentleman caller left a note!"

"in a 50,000 won bill? classy," jungsoo snarked.

junmyeon tried to wrestle heechul for the note, because _honestly_ even though he didn't know how embarrassing the stranger's note would be, just having it in heechul's hands was enough of a humiliation already. but of course jungsoo elbowed him out of the way as he almost had it.

" _'do you think this is enough for me to know your name? sincerely, the man in room 100 of that yellow shack near the sea,'_ " jungsoo read aloud. "'yellow shack...' did he mean the parks' inn near the coast?"

"wow. rich and _judgmental_ ," heechul quipped. "looks like you've got your work cut out for you, suho-dear."

junmyeon snatched the bill away from the two. "yeah, well, it's not like i'm going. that's not my thing, mama. that's not _our_ thing."

both heechul and jungsoo took a seat on the booth the strange men abandoned earlier. the sheer coordination the two had would be terrifying, if only junmyeon didn't know what usually happened next when they had their wonder twins act going on. he hadn't been their drag daughter for almost ten years now for nothing.

so junmyeon took a bar stool from one of the middle tables and sat in front of the duo, ready for whatever sermon they had for him. "so... is this the part where you tell me to pack my things because you're selling me to one direction? like that man just happened to be harry styles' korean butler or something?"

heechul rolled his eyes. "baby, stop embarrassing me. that man definitely had an accent. even though i was busy trying not to kill those idiots earlier, i had ears. i think he's japanese."

"you think every tourist is japanese, you weeb," jungsoo countered.

"shut up. in another life, i'm dating a japanese goddess and you're withering in your singlehood."

"mom? mama?" junmyeon interfered, trying to remind the two of his presence.

"oh right, suho, honey," heechul started. "well, that man is handsome and he's definitely propositioning you, but if you're going to him, we want to make sure that you're safe, and—"

"wait. are you honestly encouraging me? i thought you'd say no, _hyung._ stranger danger and all," junmyeon said hotly.

"junmyeon, this is wolgwang. we know every single one here. even those homophobic wastes of oxygen that throw money at us here would defend us to death against foreigners. those men are in our territory. they have nothing against the angry mobs of this town," heechul said.

"i'm sorry, am i the only one who remembers that a man was found dead mere meters away from us?" junmyeon shot back. the fact that the man from earlier admitted to be behind mr. seo's death rang loudly in his head, nagging him to tell the two, but something in him wouldn't allow his mouth to utter those words. it wasn't even out of wanting to protect his _hyung_ s **or the idea that he had no proof. maybe he was trying to protect that man, but even that was laughable. it was clear as day that no consequences would ever touch them for what they did, and it was even clearer that a bunch of countryside drag queens like them wouldn't be able to enact the justice their police has neglected to—not that the victim deserved it, but that, of course, was another issue altogether.

he just... _can't._ and even with all his remaining brain matter working overtime together, he couldn't string along a decent enough theory regarding why. something about that man just made things unexplainable for him.

junmyeon took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice even. "okay, i get it. the dude has money... but i thought el dorado's doing well? i mean, even with the murder? are we going under? do i have to fuck this guy so that—"

this time, jungsoo reached out and pulled on his sideburns, which were peeking through his wig. "stop being dramatic, junmyeon. this place may be a tacky dump—"

"—a _deliberately_ tacky dump! it's kitsch! it's camp!" heechul exclaimed.

"—still a tacky dump, yes, but we're not going to sell our girls just to keep this place from going under. not that we are, because we don't have much expenses for this place anyway. i mean, i inherited the building and we've still got enough saved from before mr. seo's surprise two weeks ago."

"well, in that case, why are you throwing me out to the wolves?" junmyeon asked.

heechul and jungsoo gave each other a look— _the look_ —before turning their attention back at him and sighing. telepathy might not have been scientifically proven yet, but these two might as well be exhibits a and b.

"well, junmyeon, dear," jungsoo started, but junmyeon immediately interfered.

"no, stop that, you're doing that thing were you're overly nice to me for no reason and it's weir—"

"one, the dude's hot. two, i went out of the back room earlier to piss and saw that boy all over you in the bar, so i don't think he's going to leave you dead in a random bathroom or something. and three, he's not even going to be able to take you to a random bathroom or kill you in his hotel room because jungsoo and i will be on your heels the entire time you're meeting him," heechul quickly said, all in a single breath. junmyeon was already impressed, but the older queen just had to ruin the illusion, adding, "just like what we do in all your dates."

"you follow me in my dates?!" he exclaimed.

heechul even had the gall to nod, unabashedly proud. "yes, and i just realized: you won't be able to go to his hotel room, either. we refuse for you to put out on a first date. especially since we'll be stalking you. there are things that mothers shouldn't be able to see or hear or _think about_ their children."

" _hyung!"_

" _mama!_ i'm wearing heels and lashes and i have glitter crawling in my buttcrack and you're calling me ' _hyung'_?" heechul screeched.

the older man's shot out, long fingers reaching out to junmyeon to presumably flick him in the forehead, like he always did whenever he was annoyed with junmyeon, but jungsoo took a deep breath and called out junmyeon's name, making both of them freeze in their spots. the party's over whenever jungsoo got serious and both heechul and junmyeon knew that.

"junmyeon, do you really not like this guy?" jungsoo asked seriously. "heechul said you seemed to be open to this guy too earlier, and you rarely do that, so we thought... but nevermind. if you don't like him, it's fine. we just..."

"teukie, come on," heechul replied. "we're having fun here."

but jungsoo continued, looking at junmyeon directly. "we just think this is the perfect distraction for you, especially since—"

" _jungsoo_ ," heechul pressed.

"especially since sehun's birthday is in a few days."

yeah. the party is _definitely_ over whenever jungsoo became serious.

* * *

in a few days, it will officially be a year since sehun went missing.

he would have been fifteen this year: fresh, bright, and ready for high school. he would have seen his brother try out for the soccer team, grapple with the burgeoning struggles of his first love, and sneak out a bottle from el dorado for his first taste of soju.

but instead all junmyeon had was a stuffed chick that his brother was supposed to give him for his birthday last year, and a generic card with a scorpion drawn on it.

sehun's disappearance was the common fodder for those dateline mysteries moms loved to watch at night. it had been his first time in seoul, all to watch the last night of his favorite girl group's concert tour, a gift everyone in el dorado worked many nights of. sehun had been el dorado's little baby, and that night was supposed to be his big boy birthday present, particularly because heechul still felt uneasy letting go of his baby at thirteen. he had been accompanied by the wonder couple kyungsoo and jongin, and so far, that night had been a blast. sehun had screamed the entire night during the concert and they were all ready to go home when he asked the couple if they could drop by a novelty store nearby, so he could buy junmyeon a birthday gift in advance, since their birthdays were almost only a month apart.

and then jongin had to go to the bathroom and kyungsoo had been too interested in the egg bread cart right outside the store and next thing they knew, sehun was gone.

and this is where liam neeson's and junmyeon's life tracks differentiated from one another. where liam neeson managed to track his daughter down with a single phone call, punching who knows how many guys in the process, junmyeon didn't receive even a single text. and even though the whole of el dorado tried, even including jongin and chanyeol and random people from wolgwang that they managed to mobilize, there wasn't a single trace of his brother. it was like he vanished into thin air.

normally, at this point, it should have been national news already. there should already be a nationwide outcry, with groups of concerned mothers leading junmyeon into the media onslaught, but who was he kidding? they barely even got attention in the precinct, and when they were finally let in, the fact that their occupation of "entertainers" turning out to be professional crossdressers allowed them nothing but a series of raucous, potbellied laughter as the door was opened wide for them to leave. no one even bothered escorting them outside.

so now junmyeon lived all alone in the one-bedroom apartment that it took him years to save up for. this was supposed to be his gift to sehun after they had spent most of his life in heechul and jungsoo's spare room, but the boy didn't even come home to see it.

exhaustion bore down to the depths of junmyeon's bones, making every step for him almost impossible to endure. he threw his ratty backpack onto his unmade bed, uncaring about how dirty it probably was. if his brother was here, he would've been nagged to oblivion regarding how messy he was, but there was no one to keep him in line anymore. struggling, he stumbled over his dressing table, carefully making sure that his mess didn't spill over sehun's immaculate study table.

pulling one of his prized makeup wipes, he erased the remnants of today's work. it felt silly now, in hindsight, to exert all that effort on painting his face, on playing sword with words with a stranger who might as well be a madman, earning two million won in a night, only to go back to an empty home. what is he doing with his life, honestly? somehow, even with suho leading him to trudge on the intricate ridges of life, junmyeon found himself constantly stumbling. maybe pretending to be another person wasn't working out for him anymore. how could he continue pretending anyway, when he didn't feel like a person anymore?

sehun's trusty alarm clock, the ordinary one that could withstand being thrown against the wall multiple times and still ring as loud as new year's firecrackers, gave him the time: _2:34_ _am_. wolgwang was a small town. he could easily go to the inn the stranger was staying at in fifteen minutes, tops.

but should he? _would_ he?

if he were to follow the sage advice of his drag mothers and go to the man for a slight taste of distraction from life, then he really didn't need to go to that man at all. he could just knock on baekhyun's door and ask for a tutorial on league of legends—that would surely be enough for a few days' worth of distraction. _no_. if he was going to risk the last remaining shreds of sanity that he had and play with fire with that man, then it might as well be for something beneficial.

that was difficult to determine, considering that he didn't even know what he wanted. at this point, what did he want? money? sex? power? _sehun_?

he figured the first three would be easy for the man to provide, but junmyeon kept his reservations about the man giving his last wish. if that stranger was able to, he would sell his soul to him.

all of a sudden, something at the back of his head brought him back to the man's appearance and _aura_ , unleashing a catastrophe of questions in his head that all reverberate the exact same thing: _what if he could?_

junmyeon wasn't sure about how much the man could achieve with regards to it, but he wasn't blind to not see that the man clearly had the resources to at least _try_.

and that small amount of possibility, of chance, of _opportunity_ —junmyeon refused to rob his brother of that.

despite getting all his makeup off, he quickly packed his go-to makeup kit. he didn't know what the stranger would want from him tonight, anyway.

* * *

wolgwang's streets were empty as junmyeon biked toward the parks' inn.

in all fairness, he counted himself lucky that he had been too poor to have parents who owned a car, and too _soft_ to be forced by elders into farm equipment work, a.k.a. tractor driving. with this, his trusty bike was the only vehicle that he was allowed to master, and he thanked fate that he did, because the muscle memory from driving his bike around town since childhood was enough to let him roam around with only the moonlight as his guide

it was almost pitch black outside, save for a few garden lamps that some houses charitably left open. majority of the houses that lined wolgwang's major streets were not as gracious, their curtains drawn shut and all lights turned off, refusing to spare even a tiny sliver of light, even with their local government already refusing to spend money for streetlamps. but for junmyeon, it made sense. the world, after all, rarely offered kindness.

the inky expanse above blanketed him as he drove. maybe his eyes were simply giving up on him, especially since it was a little bit past three in the morning and he's been working since three in the morning _the day before_ , but he gambled that there were more stars in the sky right now compared with the nights before. their twinkling brightness contrasted heavily with the darkness that covered him, and although he wouldn't ever say it out loud, because he really didn't need another scarlet letter adding to the _drag queen with a missing brother_ , he would have said that those stars were following him, lightness clumping together as they stalked and guided him along his way.

if this was fate's way of making it up to him, she still had much to do, but junmyeon appreciated this gesture.

if this was just a coincidence and fate really didn't care about him at all, he's still grateful. at least if he's being led to his death, he would manage to keep his pretty face instead of bashing it on someone's hydrangeas after losing control of his bike in the dark.

chanyeol's father ran the inn, just like his mother did before, after her parents built it. that big, bright egg-yolk yellow inn was easily the fanciest place in wolgwang, making the parks the wealthiest family in town. but like all capitalists, they were huge believers of the whole _hard work builds character_ schtick, which was why chanyeol has effectively been the entire town's errand boy for every summer since he started high school.

junmyeon didn't really believe in that kind of parenting. if you'd ask him, parents should try to strive to at least make their children's lives better than what they were accustomed to, but then again, if chanyeol's parents had not done that, there was no way he would have known the boy, much less be friends with him.

and when you want to break through the most lavish establishment in your entire town for what might or might not be a hookup—when you've explicitly and vehemently defended yourself against years of accusations of being a hooker—you certainly wanted to be friends with the owner's son.

some perks just came with it, such as knowing that the back gate was perpetually broken. so junmyeon perched his bike carefully on the mound of bermuda grass right outside the inn's back gate, and ducked accordingly to avoid the windows. all lights were off already, but it didn't hurt to be extra cautious. he hugged his backpack tightly, careful not to let it touch the inn's famed rose bushes, and tiptoed his way into the inn's equally famed garden.

"cool. so i guess i'm not the only one who found out about the shitty back gate," someone said as junmyeon was five steps in. he might or might not have jumped right after, but there were no other witnesses besides the two of them to comment on that claim.

recovering from his initial shock, junmyeon squinted through the dark, trying to recognize who it was. it certainly wasn't _the man_ , but there was still something about that stranger that felt familiar.

then, the stranger lit up his phone suddenly from under his chin, smirking at junmyeon, as if he knew exactly what was going on the other's mind. "if you're going to rob the place, how come you've already brought so much? isn't it supposed to be the other way around?" he asked.

it was the kid from earlier in el dorado, the one sandwiched between the arguing adults and the man. those dark undereye circles and round eyes were unmistakable, and contrary from how he looked earlier, there was mirth bouncing off of this boy. it was easy to see that this was his normal, something that junmyeon found himself relieved by. although he was pretty sure that whatever newfound joy the boy had right now was directly as a result of his misery, he was glad that the boy's earlier anguish wasn't ordinary. from his slight frame and build and the way that he tried to act like an adult when he clearly wasn't, this boy didn't seemed too far off sehun's age.

something tightened inside his chest, and before it could choke him even more, junmyeon managed to try and spit some words out. "isn't it way past your bedtime?" he shot back.

the boy was unfazed, turning back to his phone, which now played the opening sequence of that gun game that heechul and baekhyun waged war against each other for. "nuh-uh-uh," he said, shaking his head. "i asked first."

"...i'm not a burglar?"

"then why are you here? surely it can't be for stargazing."

junmyeon cleared his throat. "i'm here... to meet up with someone."

that seemed to get the boy's attention quickly. settling his phone down, he glanced back at junmyeon and scanned him from head to toe, curiosity teeming from his eyes. "is that someone over six feet tall, looks really scary, and dresses like an rich, pompous asshole?" the boy asked.

"language!" junmyeon exclaimed, out of pure reflex. he would have been embarrassed, but the redness crawling across the boy's cheeks paved for satisfaction instead.

in all fairness, even though the boy looked every inch of a schoolyard bully, he seemed to have been raised with good manners. almost immediately, the boy bowed down, chastised, before freezing, realizing the situation he was in. "hey!" he said. then, pouting like a petulant child, he added, "you didn't answer my question."

"oh, um," junmyeon stammered. "yeah, well, yes. i'm here to see that man."

the boy's earlier suspicion made its way to him again. "and why do you want to see him?

"well, i was talking to him earlier, and—"

"'earlier'?" the boy interrupted, confused. dread filled junmyeon. it seemed like the boy didn't recognize him out of drag, and he wasn't really looking forward to the kind of explanation that usually followed this.

he took a deep breath and began slowly. "yeah, at the bar—el dorado?" he said, hoping that at least the boy would put things together.

but he was unlucky, because the boy seemed more confused as he was before. "huh? but in the bar, _ge_ was talking to a— _oh_."

seeing the boy's shocked round eyes, junmyeon just nodded. "yeah."

"you... her?"

"...yeah."

"but you're not a girl," the boy said slowly. junmyeon could almost hear the loud and embarassing gears spinning and locking into place inside the boy's head.

"and that was a girl in that bar," the boy added, making him wince. _god._ this was painful. he imagined this was what those scenes from horror movies where teeth were pulled using pliers felt like.

"yeah, well... you're not an adult, and we only allow adults in el dorado," junmyeon tried, smiling to mask his pain. "life's weird like that, huh?"

surprisingly, the boy cracked a huge toothy smile. "cool. lu- _ge_ is going to love this." then, he motioned to the back of the inn, the gate leading toward its stretch of the beach. "the guy you're looking for's there. he likes night swimming, which is why i'm up on watch."

junmyeon would have wanted to ask more questions, but something told him the boy wasn't eager—or _allowed_ —to answer any more. so he nodded, smiling back. "uhm, okay, thanks, uhm—"

"zitao," the boy said, grinning. "or you can also call me _z_. it sounds cooler that way."

"oh, cool. by the way, i'm ju—"

the boy immediately held a hand up, stopping him. "nope!" he said, _p_ sound popping prominently. shaking his head, zitao continued, "please don't tell me your name. i mean... not yet. see, i have no idea what _ge_ wants from you, and i don't like knowing the name of whomever i'm asked to clean up later."

* * *

junmyeon was sure that the parks' private beach was a sight to behold, but there was no way for him to verify that considering that it was still _pitch black out there_.

carefully, he made his way across the sand, each step weighed carefully in case he stepped on something that crawled, or worse, something that was _squishy_. the only light that was there for him at that moment was the moon, but even she neglected him, her glow only reaching the sea and not the spot where junmyeon stood nervously on.

despite scanning the area, he couldn't find any sign of the man. the idea that zitao was tricking him, leaving him winded and tired and _pliable_ when he came back to do god knows what to him, crossed his mind, but junmyeon comforted him with the thought that _well_ , it came out of the boy's mouth himself—he cleaned up bodies.

perhaps the idea of specialization wasn't lost on serial killer groups either, so he had his hopes up that his fear of zitao actually hiding behind him, plotting his death, was irrational.

a gust of cold wind hit him as he struggled to trudge toward the water, making him hug his backpack tighter. he became more strongly aware of how vulnerable his back was, his best dress shirt suddenly too thin, humid air letting it cling onto his back.

the day's worth of exhaustion, coupled with the cold, had finally caught on with him, because all of a sudden, junmyeon found it hard to take another step. he felt heavy, stones weighing his entire body down, and the temptation of just closing his eyes and taking a short nap on the sound felt too tantalizing. even the idea that he only had two outcomes if he did so—being dead or peed on by a stray dog—didn't abate the gnawing need for rest inside him.

tired and desperate and _frankly_ , angry at his life and the cards that were dealt toward him, junmyeon sighed heavily. the side of his forehead throbbed and the dull ache behind his strained eyes increased a tenfold.

this was dumb. _this entire thing was dumb_. he's been looking everywhere for this man here, and that was just plain stupid because it was _pitch black dark outside and this was dumb._ why did he even decide to do this? why did he even think this was a good idea? for what? money? sex? _answers?_

 _fuck_ , junmyeon cursed at himself silently. he's almost thirty years old and yet still incredibly naive—how could fate just hand him answers when she couldn't even give him a single break ever since? he was already born gay and poor and asian and _short_ , but of course, life just had to make him orphaned with a little brother to raise. and then once he was finally seeing the silver lining in his shitty, _shitty_ life, fate interfered again and took it— _him_ —away from him.

and then she actually had the gall to leave him still alive after that two suicide attempts.

then after all that, he's here, trespassing, cold, alone, and _duped_ , and junmyeon has never felt angrier in his entire lif—

the cold from his back migrated to the back of his head—round and metal and heavy—before it suddenly _clicked._

"i wouldn't take another step if i were you. i don't know how you managed to get through zitao but i'll deal with him later."

"uhm... charm?"

"...huh?"

a flashlight was shone upon him, waking him up from the initial shock. somehow, as it wore off, it finally registered within junmyeon that the gun-toting voice behind him was none other than the man he had been looking for. emboldened, he turned around, trying his hardest not to break down and let his composure crack.

"hi," he said meekly, eyes cast on the ground as he absolutely refused to acknowledge the weapon against his forehead. "you said you wanted to know my name, right?"

"i said i—"

"yeah, i know. the girl's name. if you want to know her more, she's here." junmyeon motioned his backpack toward the man. "just give me ten to fifteen minutes and i can bring her back for you."

the frigid air between them seemingly reached even lower temperatures as it was filled with awkward silence. but instead of freezing, junmyeon was filled with warmth. _too much warmth._

he could feel his cheeks burning up as the man's eyes scanned through his face. it was the same scrutinizing eyes that overpowered him earlier that evening, but this time, there was no mistaking about how greater his intensity was right now compared with earlier. the man's eyes pored down every single detail of junmyeon's face, not missing a single spot. they danced around each detail of his face, as if cataloguing his entirety—every single sharp edge (not like he had any), soft corners (now, this one was plenty), and dark mark or faded pimple scar—into memory.

honestly, it would have been flattering, if it weren't for junmyeon's certainty that he was about to end up as a cold, lifeless body polluting the parks' pristine beach.

the man took one step closer to him, walking directly into the beam of light radiating from his flashlight. there was no surprise as to how handsome the man was, but against the flashlight's harsh brightness on one side and the moon's soft glow on the other, the stranger was even more so. his bare face, pale from his night swim, and wet, tousled chin-length hair, messed up by the saltwater, were unsuccessful in abating the intensity of the man's gaze at him.

junmyeon's voice was kept hostage in his throat, unable to escape except for a slight whine or squeak. as his legs remained heavy, tethered to the ground, he couldn't help but think: _this is where he'll die._ death all because of a stranger's intimidating look. it might have been impossible, but the way his heart refused to beat properly gave fact to the contrary.

at the very least, in his futile attempt to _survive_ , junmyeon broke his contact with the other's eyes, keeping them downcast. but as his gaze traveled lower, his throat went dry with the sight of the stranger's torso. each and every single inch of the man's upper body was completely covered with tattoos. **a roaring tiger in his left forearm, near the inside of his elbow. elegantly written calligraphy, in script that junmyeon neither understand nor recognize, etched on the sides of his stomach. heavily contrasting from the rest, the blocks of spaces between the man's tattoos were adorned with numerous flowers, the kind that you could see in traditional paintings, their vines circling and looping around the other images.

however, everything was upstaged by the large dragon occupied majority of his body, its head perched atop the left side of his chest. its neck rested on the man's shoulder, its long, lithe body continuing to the stranger's back, only to come back around his torso. initially, it looked like the dragon was suffocating the man, like what giant anacondas did, but the fierce, reptilian eyes that gazed directly at junmyeon, as if challenging him, seemed almost warm. caring. _protective._ it was easy to see that it looked like it was hugging the man instead.

the man took another step closer to him, bending down to meet junmyeon's eyes again. he was... _smiling_. that same soft, gentle smile that accompanied him earlier. "interesting," he murmured. after a beat, he asked, seemingly as an afterthought, "wait, did you think i was dumb enough to not notice that i had been talking to a man earlier?"

well, that sounded insidious. junmyeon opened his mouth, but his voice struggled to come out. "then why—" he stammered.

"how ridiculous of you to think i _cared,"_ the man said, laughing slightly. "i wanted to invite you out because you were the only one in a long while who had managed to look at me directly in the eye and survive. it's good to know that you're not a one-hit wonder."

then, there was a shift in the man's tone that, despite the laughter still apparent in his voice, allowed junmyeon to realize that now, _he_ was the one being laughed at.

"but you know what i find really interesting?" the stranger asked. answering his own question, he added, "it's the fact that you came here looking like that." he gestured toward junmyeon's body. "if you were here to offer sex, which is the first thing that would rationally come to mind after the money and my note, you'd be dressed completely in the way i saw you earlier. after all, that's what managed to get my attention. more so, you won't be here—you'd be in my hotel room, or at least in the lobby, waiting for me."

the man took another step forward junmyeon, and despite the vastness of the beach, he felt cornered—and it was obvious to see that the man has noticed it too, smugness injecting in his voice. "but instead, you show up like that, ordinary and plain and absolutely not wanting attention—so much so that you creep here discreetly and quietly in the beach—despite the danger—instead of waiting for me in the inn, where people may catch you the moment the sun is up. that tells me you don't do this often— _no,_ you don't do this _at all_ —but something greater than your fears pushed you to go here. and i don't think it's because you just wanted to tell me your name."

the stranger reached out toward him, making junmyeon flinch, but all he received was a round of genuine laughter from the man who, apparently, only reached out to pat his backpack. "nice touch with this. you might have convinced yourself that your excuse for going here is because of that lady in your backpack, but we both know that's not entirely true, is it?"

then, uncharacteristically, even though he really didn't know him, the stranger moved his hand from junmyeon's backpack to stroke his cheek. "you're really, _really_ full of surprises, you know?" he whispered. "in one night, you managed to get rid of my boredom so i'm giving you the chance to explain. use that chance wisely. i have a guy outside we're training with cleanups."

all of a sudden, junmyeon felt himself overwhelmed—with words that he wanted to lay out all at once, with explanations that he wanted to scream at this man, with his frustrations because _for fuck's sake_ , _didn't he think this through_? he had a couple of hours of preparation, of weighing his options, of overturning each and every single possibilty of his decision to go to this man, and yet he never predicted that he would stand here and listen to this stranger talk about him like he knew everything about junmyeon and be _a hundred percent correct._

the man was right. there was something greater that propelled junmyeon to go here, but he didn't think it was the answer that this stranger was looking for. but then again, he didn't even know _what kind_ of answer this man was looking for. for the first time, junmyeon felt himself at a total loss.

for all that this man talked about junmyeon being a bag full of surprises, why was he the one being shocked at every turn?

the man cocked his head to the side, quirking an eyebrow, obviously growing impatient. with that, junmyeon took a deep breath—or more likely, his _final_ breath. well, when you backed at a corner, you tend to go with your gut. and junmyeon's gut insisted to go with honesty—with _sehun._ if that was what got him killed, he had no regrets. that was what made him step out of his apartment in the first place, anyway.

"my brother," he said. "he's missing. for almost a year now. and... i was hoping that you'd be able to find him."

the man burst out with laughter.

sharpness dripped from the man's voice as he spoke. "i tell you we killed a man in your town, shower you with two million won for a few minutes of conversation, and your reaction is to use me as an errand boy?"

"what? no!" junmyeon exclaimed, denying it, but the man cut him off.

"do i look like a private investigator to you? a personal lost-and-found? i'm curious: what do you think i do for a living?" he snapped.

"no, i didn't mean to offend you. it's just it's been a year, and the police never did anything, so—"

"so i'm robin hood now? giver of justice to the unfortunate? great martyr who erases all the injus—"

"o-okay!" junmyeon managed to spit out. "i-i'm sorry." this time, the dam inside him burst, letting all the exhaustion and frustration seep out of him in one, swift flood. a warm stream of tears trickled down his cheeks, betraying him when he has spent the entire night— _no_ , the entire _past year_ —trying to keep it together. he clamped his teeth tightly shut, clenching his jaw, attempting to keep his breathing even, but the hard lump on his throat refused to allow him so. pain erupted behind his eyes, crawling to the sides of his temples, and whether they were from the entire day's work or the struggle of trying not to cry, junmyeon wasn't sure anymore.

"i get it. it's not your thing," he added, vigorously nodding. then, with a deep breath, he gritted his teeth. "you won't do it. s'fine. sorry to bother you."

his parents died when he was eighteen and sehun was six. the night after he signed sehun's adoption papers to ensure that he won't end up in foster care, he spent more than an hour in the shower trying to piece himself together.

this was the first time since that night that his body physically couldn't hold it in anymore and just _burst_.

and like an addict relapsing, this wasn't a congratulatory conversation on how long he had managed to hold out, but rather, how much progress he had wasted. but then again, it's not like he had any incentive anymore to get better. to remain stronger. to _live_.

that idea alone added an extra ton in the weight pressing down his chest. _fuck_. he really didn't have anything to live for, did he? all that was allowing him to hold with his red, raw, and chafed hands on the end of that flimsy rope was the equally flimsy sheds of hope that he had. irrational and impossible that hope might have been, it had existed—and it had been strong enough to delude himself that the scary, self-proclaimed killer who called him out for nothing but a novel blowjob from a drag queen would turn out to be the prince charming who'd find his brother for him.

he was delusional, not to mention incredibly stupid, as he drowned in wishful thinking. but now that this man had stripped even _that_ off him, there was really nothing left of junmyeon anymore.

"are you really crying?" the stranger asked, derision dripping from his voice. "is this a tantrum because i said no?" he rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "i must say:,you're quite disappointing. now follow me back to the inn. don't worry—i won't let the others get their hands dirty because of you. that'd be a waste of their vacation time."

junmyeon kept quiet and followed the man. he stayed mute, his mind on fire and betraying him further, filled with thousands of voices all screaming the same thing: _sehun, please be dead. it'd be worthless for you to come home only to find someone like_ him.

the man even had the audacity to whistle into the salty air, without a single care in the world, as they both trudged up the path back toward the inn. junmyeon wasn't a trained killer, but this time, he wished he was. here he was, having the biggest crisis of his life and yet, this man managed to both ignore and _invalidate_ him all at once. for the sake of the last remaining slivers of dignity that he had, junmyeon looked up, eager to—at the very least— _attempt_ to chastise the man. but what he saw made him stop in his tracks instead.

he was faced directly with the man's back, still immaculately decorated with tattoos like his front. but even with the shaking light from his flashlight and the dim glow from the moon, junmyeon's terrible eyes were unerringly clear with what they have latched onto: a huge tattoo of a scorpion, laid out perfectly atop the man's spine, its menacing pincers taking each half of his back, exactly where an angel's wings would be.

and despite the dragon's body looping around the giant scorpion tattoo, junmyeon wasn't distracted from the truth: this was the same exact scorpion drawing on the card sehun had left a year ago.

junmyeon's mind fired away hundreds—no, _thousands_ —of theories all at once, but he found himself unable to focus on any of them. instead, he went on almost autopilot mode, his mouth suddenly opening, ratting off one word over and over again. "wait."

" _waitwaitwaitwaitwait_ ," he said, almost chanting it like a litany. he took off his backpack in a hurry, silently cursing at how stuffed he always made it. frustrated, he threw it on the ground, mindlessly scrambling into its contents with the frail scattering of light emitting from the man's flashlight.

it was probably out of sheer curiosity, particularly because he'd spent the entire night patronizing junmyeon, but the stranger had stopped too, and even shone his flashlight directly inside the excavation junmyeon has made on his backpack. he looked up at the man to see his quirked eyebrow, proving his suspicions correct.

after a minute or so has passed with junmyeon still digging into his back, the man finally spoke, "fine, i'll bite: what are you doing?"

"your tattoo," junmyeon said.

"well, i have a lot, so you have to be specif—"

"the scorpion on your back."

"you recognize it?" the man asked, almost incredulously.

junmyeon nodded in response. "it's the same as—"

finally, he unearthed what he was trying to find: sehun's now-dusty stuffed chick and the crumpled generic greeting card that accompanied it.

struggling to catch his breath, junmyeon practically pushed the card toward the man. "—there. see? it's the same as your tattoo, right? my brother was in a gift store buying me this toy as a birthday gift when he went missing. all that's left of him were this toy and this card with your tattoo on it. it doesn't—"

then, it was as if the man's tone became submerged into ice-cold waters instantly, all remnants of joking or _smugness_ reduced in a flat, monotone voice. "how sure are you that your brother didn't just draw this?"

desperation strained junmyeon's voice even further. "because _why would he?_ " he reasoned out exasperatedly. "neither of us are scorpios, we've both never even been in a zoo before, and if he were going to give me a birthday card, shouldn't there be a message or a greeting there, not a _fucking drawing of an insect_?"

"this isn't an insect. this is the antares mark," the man said, voice emotionless.

junmyeon didn't even have it in him to tell him he made no sense at all. so he just took a deep breath to compose himself, reminding himself that _this is the only chance he had_. "please," he said, keeping his voice even, reeling in all the desperation that struggled to break free from his system. he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. " _please tell me this isn't just some weird coincidence._ "

"how old is your brother? when he went missing, i mean. and where was he?" the man asked, still staring at the drawing on the card.

"it was his 14th birthday when he went missing," junmyeon said, and it didn't miss his eyes that the man barely had the control to hide his wince. "and it was in seoul. in a gift store near one of the concert atriums, i just forgot exactly which one, but i can ask kyungsoo, since he was with him that n—"

but all of junmyeon's words were extinguished upon seeing the man's gaze directly on him. this time, there was brought by neither lust nor patronizing curiosity anymore—all the heat within the man's stare was born out of clear and unbridled _anger._

practically seething, the man furiously unzipped one of his swim shorts' pockets, digging out a phone sealed in a small, clear protective bag. the way he took his phone out of that bag was an exemplary of gracefulness, but junmyeon swallowed all temptation of commenting on it as he watched how fury slowly overcome the man, making all his actions forceful and jilted.

the man maneuvered his way into his phone, angrily tapping a few buttons to call someone before spitting out, "zitao, wake luhan up. tell him to explain _in full detail_ why and how the antares— _my fucking signature_ —was involved in a missing fourteen-year-old _kid_ from _south_ fucking _korea?_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also this was supposed to be brooding??? and mysterious??? and slightly thriller-ish?? but instead i'm writing this fic like i'm drunk and telling my friends about my newest fic idea :(( yifan sounds so irredeemable here, i hope he manages to come through in the end :(( 
> 
> anyway, this chapter is dedicated to my internet service provider for not giving me decent internet for over a week now. i could be watching drag queens' makeup tutorials on youtube right now to procrastinate from work, but instead i vomited words onto notion.

**Author's Note:**

> let's bother each other on [twitter](https://twitter.com/stanyeol_) !!!!!


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